


his absence is like the sky, spread over everything

by novemberwhispers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x19 and 15x20 do not exist, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Is Alive, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M, Occasional swearing, dean has trouble with speaking, the word 'suicide' is used once but don't worry no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29321094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberwhispers/pseuds/novemberwhispers
Summary: This wasn’t the first time Cas died, obviously.Although it was only the second time it felt truly permanent.Another fic where Dean rescues Cas from the Empty, as he should have. Finale? Never heard of her.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 105





	his absence is like the sky, spread over everything

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it a while back, I think before 15x19 aired, because I was (am) still not over the 12x23 finale and Cas' death in that episode, and then I had to witness him die again in 15x18. And then the disaster of the finale also happened, so this is kind of me processing through these two deaths and writing a happy, although sort of an open, ending they both deserve. I don't usually write fanfiction, but this was something that I had to get off my chest for quite some time now, so you have been warned. Also this is very self indulgent haha.

> _Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief. -_ C. S. Lewis

This wasn’t the first time Cas died, obviously.

Although it was only the second time it felt truly permanent.

Dean didn’t want to, but he remembered it all. Three years ago he was kneeling next to Cas’ dead body, watching helplessly as the first raindrops started to wash away the trace of burnt wings on the ground. He couldn’t believe what just happened, what he just saw. He doesn’t quite recall how long was he kneeling there, but by the time he snapped out of this overwhelming feeling of disbelief, shock and helplessness, he was soaking wet.

  
  
He remembers clearly as he looked at Cas’ vessel, Cas’ _body_ , laying in the mud and thought that no, not like this, he has to get Cas somewhere, anywhere from the dirty ground. Still in complete shock, he managed to grab Castiel’s body and slowly, cautiously, lift him up. The trenchcoat was wet and dirty and smelled awfully, and Dean was barely able to get up and stand on his own two feet. His vision was blurry, and one thing he was sure of, it wasn’t because of the rain.

  
  
It was hardly the first time he ever had to move a dead body. It was always awful and generally hard to do. Moving an inert body took a lot of physical strength, and Dean was no stranger to it. Holding Cas though… This was some whole other level. The weight of Cas felt heavier than any other thing he ever had to carry, and that includes that time he carried Sam all those years ago, right before he made a deal that eventually lead to this. 

The ground was slippery and boggy and Dean was desperately trying to focus on every step because the other option was falling down, and that meant Cas would once again end up in the mud and this was just too much to think about. One step, two steps, three; towards the house. The sound of torrential rain was deafening but it was a good thing: at least Dean didn’t have to listen to his own thoughts. 

  
  
The scene of an angel blade ripping through Cas right in front of him started replaying itself over and over and over again; Cas’ blue eyes, looking directly at him, suddenly became full of light, and in the next second the blue, celestial light was everywhere, and it was bright and blinding, and Dean’s eyes were burning but his whole body was paralyzed and he couldn’t stop staring at the one thing he hoped he would never have to witness ever again.

And all of a sudden the darkness fell, almost darker than it was just moments before, and Cas was no longer looking at him; his eyes were empty and his body was sinking to the ground as Lucifer slowly pulled out the blade, smiling, like Dean’s world didn’t just excruciatingly exploded like a supernova, brighter than anything else for a split second, and then just gone forever, leaving a starless night sky all around him and a black hole that he instantly felt he was falling, no, _dragged_ and sucked into. 

  
  
Dean felt like he was experiencing everything in some kind of a sick slow motion. He knew his feet eventually slipped on the mud, he knew he was falling down, he knew his knees hit the ground but at the same time he felt like he was merely a powerless outside observer who couldn’t react, interact or change what happened. Everything became too overwhelming, to quiet and too loud all at once; the world was closing in on him, and if asked, he wouldn't have been able to answer what was heavier in that moment: the weight of the world, crushing him from every side, making him unable to breathe, to speak, or even feel, or was it Castiel in his arms. 

He shut his eyes, held Cas closer and tighter, buried his face in Cas’ hair, wet and damp, and started crying. 

How long did he stay like this he doesn't know, but in those moments time didn't matter; nothing really mattered, as he was weeping, feeling more broken than he ever felt before, smaller and more helpless than ever, surrounded by this all-consuming merciless blackness that smelled like dirt, and smoke, and fire; and suddenly he was 4 years old again and he was watching his house go up in flames; he stared at it with wide, innocent eyes, he watched as it was burning brightly, as tongues of fire danced on the roof and escaped through broken windows and seemed to demonically laugh at him and at his life that was going up with smoke right along with the house; but he didn't know it back then. By morning his childhood was turned to ashes, just like the house, just like his mother and just like Castiel's wings. 

‘Dean. Dean, hey—’

The voice was coming from a distance, muffled by the rain and the wind. It was dragging him back to reality, and Dean didn't like that at all. He wanted to drown in the rain or go up in smoke, he didn't care. It was annoying and Dean felt the anger rising up in his chest. 

‘Dean!’

  
  
He shut his eyes tighter and took a few breaths.

‘Dean!’

  
  
He blinked a few times, and there he was, again, in the dirt, on his knees, desperately clutching to Cas’ body like it was his last lifeline. Dean glimpsed at Castiel’s face, and by God, it was a mistake. He quickly looked up to Sam.

  
  
‘Dean, the nephilim…’, Sam cut himself off the moment he saw Dean’s red, swollen, unseeing eyes, 'Oh my God…’

  
  
Dean was still staring at him blankly. After a moment he exhaled, looked around and tried to get up without a word, still holding onto Cas. Everything was dirty and slippery, and ugly, and dark, and wet, but Dean had to stand up, he had to carry Cas inside, had to take care of him. 

  
  
He didn’t even feel Sam’s arms helping him get up. He didn’t feel anything. He was awake and unconscious at the same time. He was like a moth, instinctively drawn to the house lights, taking step after numb step, lead and held by his brother. Soaked wet and covered in mud, he walked through the door.   
  


*  
  


Dean spent that night in the room with Castiel’s body. He remembers laying him down on a couch and covering his body with blankets. He recalls Sam trying to talk to him, but Dean didn't want to talk, to be honest he wasn't even sure if he would be able to speak a word if he wanted to. Thunderstorm of emotions and feelings was pounding in his head making it hard to breathe, so he did what was familiar. He grabbed the first bottle that he found, chugged it down as fast as he could and passed out on the floor, right next to the couch. It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to die, but at that moment he didn’t want to be alive, either.

  
  
But now. Now was different. No, in a way it was the same. But at the same time it was different. Because by some unimaginable way this time was worse. Much worse. He always thought that it was impossible for something to be worse than what happened the night Jack was born. Castiel’s death three years ago was shocking, unexpected, sudden and fast. This time? Oh, fuck.

  
  
He was completely devoid of emotions and drowning in them at the same time. He felt absolutely nothing and everything all at once. What just happened has left him completely frozen and paralyzed. His body and his mind were actively refusing to process what he just saw.

And what he just _heard_.

Dean found himself staring blankly around him, like he didn't recognize where he was, like he was looking for an answer or an explanation written on the bunker’s wall. His phone was buzzing, but he barely gave it a thought. The whole world might as well just end and disappear for all he cared; his own world was just taken away from him seconds ago (or was it hours?), so why, why should he give a damn if the planet kept on turning or not?

  
  
And there he was, a sobbing mess once again, because he just lost. Again. At this point he should be used to losing, to _loss_. And yet this time it hit him harder than ever before.

  
  
_I love you. Goodbye, Dean_ , echoed in his head over and over again like a mantra, like a spell, like a curse. Cas’ eyes, more blue than ever, looking straight into his own. _I love you, goodbye, Dean. I love you, goodbye, Dean, I love you, I love you, I love you._

Grief was dark and overwhelming, he felt weak and small and useless and guilty. He shouldn't be alive, he should be dead, he should have been the one taken, he shouldn't be the only one to survive what just happened. He should have gone with Cas, he should have silenced him or answer him, but once again he found himself speechless. He felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest, so why was it still beating, pumping, keeping him alive?

_I love you, too, Cas_ , the answered echoed in his head. _I love you, too_.

He buried his face in his hands and he cried.

*

'Ready?’, Sam’s voice was uncertain and a little shaky. What they were about to do was risky and probably stupid as fuck, but—

  
  
'Sure’, Dean lied. What if it doesn’t work, what if something goes wrong, what if he won’t find Cas, what if he won’t bring him back, what if he comes back without him, what if everything goes terribly wrong… 'Ready when you are.’

It’s been some time since they got rid of Chuck. It included Amara and Michael and all the strength they could find. To be quite honest, all the events just mashed up into one big cloudy memory for Dean. He felt like he was existing on autopilot all this time. Bottom line though, they got rid of the omnipotent bastard, got back all the people who disappeared…

  
  
Well, almost all.

  
  
But again, Cas wasn’t ' _people_ ’.

  
  
With all the help they could get, they finally crafted a spell to open up a portal to the Empty. Fine, not they, it was mostly Sam, Jack, Charlie and Eileen combining forces to read through all Rowena’s spells and grimoires. Dean, on the other hand, spent most of his time locked in his room, silent and not daring to hope. 

And not being able to look at Jack.

  
  
It was impossible but somehow happened anyway: the kid looked like a younger version of Cas, minus the hair. Every time he glimpsed at him, he felt his heart breaking yet again. And it was not just the looks. His smile, his gestures, the way he formed sentences, the way he tilted his head or frowned when he was confused. It was all there and it was way more than Dean was able to handle. 

The last time Cas died was the night Jack was born. And Dean took out his own anger and hurt on the innocent kid, which not only added to the never ending pile of guilt that was crushing him, but also reminded Dean of his own father. When he thought about it he felt himself spiraling down a very, very dark path in his mind that was better left unexplored. But the point remained: Dean looked at Jack and couldn’t help it - the sight of Cas’ dead body on the ground, the sight of his burnt wings were always there, even after he came back. And then, the Empty taking Cas. All these memories just rushed over him like a tsunami every time he looked at Jack. It was unbearable.

'I can’t do this, Sam’, he said one day to his brother, 'I just can’t. I can’t even think about this. If this thing… If this… Whatever you all are doing… If this eventually doesn’t work out, I am not sure I am going to be able to survive this. So I just… I just can’t help you with this’.

  
  
Sam only nodded in agreement, desperate to get Dean out of his room, but at the same time understanding that if they don’t find a way to open up the portal to the Empty, then all he was doing was giving Dean false hope.

And they already had Dean on suicide watch.

So, each day they buried themselves in the books, spells and lore, working as hard as they could to find anything that could help. Occasionally they caught a glimpse of Dean’s shadow on his way to the kitchen or bathroom. Sometimes Dean even stood in the library’s door for a minute or two and stared at them with a bottle is his hand, like he was anticipating. All they could give him was a reassuring smile. At the beginning they tried hugs, but Dean never let them touch him. It was like every touch hurt him. Little did they know, everything hurt.

After some time, they finally got a breakthrough. At the beginning they didn’t tell Dean, but things finally started working out and the spell was ready in no time. Jack and Charlie were just high-five'ing each other, and they were all about to discuss the plan and who is going to get through the portal, when Dean appeared in the door.

  
  
'What is happening?’, he asked quietly, and suddenly there was absolute silence. Everyone looked at Sam.

  
  
'I…’, he finally grunted, 'I am not sure if you want to hear this’.

  
  
'Try me’.

  
  
Sam took a deep breath.

  
  
'We… We did it, Dean. We found a way to open a portal to the Empty’, Sam paused and tried to give Dean one of his smiles, 'But I am not going to promise you anything'.

  
  
Dean blinked and then closed his eyes. 

  
  
'Are you sure? You found a way?’

  
  
Everyone looked at each other, not daring to say a word.

  
  
'Yes, Dean’, Sam finally said, 'We are sure.’

  
  
'Where is it’, Dean whispered.

  
  
'Where’s what?’

  
  
'Where’s the portal’, Dean said again, through his teeth, eyes still closed.

  
  
'We… We haven’t opened it yet. We we just about to—’

  
  
'Do it. Now’, Dean’s eyes were now piercing through Sam. He looked determined enough to do anything, but at the same time he looked beyond tired, like he was on the edge of collapsing into himself like a house of cards. 

  
  
'Dean—’

  
  
'Now’.

And here they were now, in front of an opened portal to nothingness. Dean’s eyes were completely focused on the darkness.

'Dean, you need to remember that, according to what Jack said, the Empty is a place where the angels and demons are supposed to dream for all eternity', Sam began, 'If... _**When**_ you find him', he corrected himself, 'Cas might be a little out of it. He might have trouble with believing that he is not dreaming. So just... Be prepared for that.'

'I know', Dean answered.

  
  
'And Dean… Remember. It stays open for an hour’, Sam said, unsure if Dean was even listening to him. But Dean was, in fact, listening, the thing though? He couldn’t care less. If he gets stuck, he gets stuck and stays there. It didn’t matter. His life lately wasn’t much different from what he was seeing right now in front of him.

  
  
'Yeah, sure’, he muttered, and stepped inside.  
  


*  
  


It was… Dark. Not like Amara-dark. It was just all black. It was nothing. No right, no left, no up, no down. He was standing and floating at the same time and the feeling was… Honestly? It was liberating.

  
  
He looked around but all he saw was, ironically, nothing. The silence was actually calming, though. He wouldn’t mind staying. After all, one thing he was sure of — Cas was there, somewhere. It was a reason good enough for him to stay. Cas.

  
_Cas_.

  
  
The thought made his heart beat faster. Blood was pumping through his veins and he was suddenly starting to feel alive again. He blinked and tried to focus, steadying his breath. Cas.

  
  
Cas was there somewhere.

  
  
Well, this whole thing is at least worth a try. If he doesn’t find him, he will simply stay here. He had nothing left to lose anyway. 

  
  
An hour, Sam said.

  
  
Dean looked at his watch, confused. _50 minutes left_ , he estimated and looked around.

  
  
But there was still nothing to be seen.

  
  
'Cas?!’ he yelled in a raspy voice, ' _Cas_?!’

  
  
His voice, his breath and his hands were feverishly shaking. Hope was rising in his chest, only to be replaced by anger, anger by fear and fear, again, by hope. 

  
  
'Cas?!’ he cried out once again. And again. And again. And again, and again, and again.

  
  
He didn’t know when he started to run around, more and more desperately, but it was dark, it was so dark and his voice was completely scratched from yelling, and it was cold, and there was no Cas, and he was all alone and—

  
  
'Castiel?!’, Dean called as loud as he could, feeling the tears in the corner of his eyes, because damn it, when and why did he let himself believe that he can find Cas in this emptiness? At this point his whole body was shaking, and he heard a quiet sob escaping his mouth.

  
  
But he also heard something else.

  
  
At first he thought _he_ made that rustle, somehow. But then he heard it again, and this time he didn’t even move a single muscle. He didn’t even dare to breathe.

  
  
He exhaled, very, very slowly. And even slower, he turned around.

  
  
And then he saw it.

  
  
A figure surrounded by light composed of every colour he ever saw. He had to squint his eyes; the light, albeit beautiful, was blinding.

  
  
And he could swear he saw it before.

  
  
Because he did. It was the last thing he saw before he woke up in a coffin, what seemed like forever ago. It took him a second to recognize it, but once he did, the feeling of familiarity and safety surrounded him completely and all he could do was stare at the figure getting closer, and closer, and then all those feelings were replaced with just one — the long anticipated feeling of relief.

  
  
'Cas’, he mouthed almost without a sound, scared to close his eyes, too afraid that the light and the figure were merely an illusion, about to disappear. But after he blinked, it was all still there.

  
  
And it was Cas, _his Cas_ ; the dumb, self-sacrificing idiot in a trenchcoat, whose absence made Dean’s life completely numb and pointless and unlivable. He wanted to run to him, to wrap his arms around him and never let go. He was shaking more than ever, but somehow managed to take a first step towards the light, and then the next one, and the next one, and one more.

  
  
Oh, God.

  
  
Cas looked awful. Absolutely terribly. Like he has woken up in a middle of the worst nightmare. He looked confused and scared; no, he looked absolutely _terrified_. His eyes were unfocused and his steps unsure.

  
  
And then he saw Dean.

  
  
He stopped walking, and his eyes widened. His mouth opened in disbelief. He looked petrified.

  
  
'What…’, he whispered fearfully, 'How…’

  
  
'Cas’, Dean’s voice broke. There was a million things he wanted to say, to scream, a million speeches he imagined himself saying to Cas if he ever saw him again, but all that disappeared the moment he saw the familiar face. 'I’m here’, he managed to whisper, 'You're here', he added, and saying this out loud felt like the weight of the world fell from his shoulders, like just for a moment he was finally free. 

  
  
'You’re not _supposed_ to be in _here_ ’ Castiel said, now completely frightened, looking straight into Dean’s eyes. After a moment he started to frantically look around. 'Look, I don’t know how, or _why_ …’

  
  
'What?!’, Dean cut him off, blinking away the tears, 'Why?! _Why_ as in _why_ I’m here?! Are you serious-’

  
  
'Dean’, Cas didn’t let him finish, 'Are you even real?’ he added quietly and softly.

  
  
Dean felt blood rushing to his head; he suddenly was in a fight mode once again, starting to feel everything all at once - the anger, the fear, the pain; like after weeks of being numb his mind decided to unleash every emotion a human being can possibly feel. The familiarity of that question was terrifying and he didn't even dare to think about it's implications. He remembered what Sam told him. _This is real_ , he thought and _we are, we are, we are_ echoed in his head. 

  
  
_No. Not now_ , Dean thought, _Now focus. Focus_ , he told himself but his eyes were feasting on the sight of Cas, _his Cas_ , like he was a blind man who suddenly was able to see for the first time in his life. 

  
  
'Cas. I am real, okay', Dean finally managed to say, and he swears it wasn't supposed to sound that sad and desperate, 'And we have to go. We have to go’, he repeated, 'I— I don’t know how much time we have left, I—’, _I don’t even know where is the fucking portal_ , he cursed himself, _Or how much actual time has passed_. 'We need to go’, he said instead with a voice that was supposed to be confident, but came out brittle and broken. 

  
  
'Dean, I—’

  
  
But Dean had enough. Time was ticking. 

  
  
Without even thinking about it, he reached for Cas’ arm, grabbed it and started walking, dragging Cas with him. Towards the portal, hopefully.

  
  
'Dean—’, Castiel’s voice was very weak, 'Dean. _Dean_!’ Cas broke free from Dean's grip and stop walking.

  
  
'What now?’, Dean finally stopped to look at Cas. Castiel looked like he was just chewed up and spat out by a cow, but once Dean’s eyes landed on him, he just couldn’t stop looking. _Man, I thought I’m never going to see you again_ , he thought and exhaled. Why didn't he say it out loud? 'We really gotta go, Cas’.

  
  
But Castiel was staring at him like he just received a revelation, like a man lost in the desert who saw an oasis after _days_ of being burned by the sun and deprived of water, like—

Like he was witnessing a dream coming true.

  
  
'What if it doesn’t work?’ Cas said quietly and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were full of tears. 'Something always goes wrong-'

  
  
_**No**. Not again_, Dean thought.

'Cas. _Cas_ , look. Cas, look at me’, he cupped his face, so he could stare directly into Cas’ eyes. 'Not this time. We had that conversation, remember? In purgatory. And that conversation is over’, he said, maybe a little bit too harshly. 'Although there is another one that is not over. Far from over, actually’, he added more softly.

  
Cas was looking directly into his eyes, anticipating.

  
  
'Dean, I… What I said…’

  
  
'I heard what you said. And now we need to go. Understand?’

  
  
'Yes’, Cas said after a while, 'I understand.’


End file.
